Pitango Gelato

Jeffrey F. Bill, Baltimore Sun photo

"There is a moment upon entering Pitango where a hush falls upon one's soul. It is like walking to a church, your feet firmly planted in the devil's anteroom where he can only pace and desperately desire and weep ruby tears of soft flame. Then you take one step forward and suddenly there is a calm peace around you that hums, and sings, and smells wonderfully of love. The thing about love is that it is so good at being hate, or worse, apathy. It is strong and immediate and blisteringly beautiful and then it fades and breaks so quickly, until all that remains is the snarling grey gargoyle of a memory. The price we pay for love is eternity - measured penny by penny along an uncertain but ever darkening road. The only question, then, is whether it is worth it. Pitango makes gelato. They also make love, pure love in the pulled and shaped forms of a cold treat. I stood in the sun and let my eyes adjust to the bright stinking emerald of our harbor and ate a cup of canteloupe sorbet. I sat on a bench where a small dog and I spoke softly on the mysteries of water and bones and the trees whose bent arms reach down to softly assure us as we walk underneath them, and I idly found a cup of straciatella disappearing into me(and the dog as well, don't tell his owner). There is love here in every flavor and in the process, and in the staff as well, that clearly love the store as much as the customers love the local and seasonal offerings. A long time ago I knew a girl that worked here as well as I have known my own pulse - I loved as a fool loves, a yellow flame burning impure. As a result it was two years since I last stepped foot into Pitango until quite recently. Two years seems long, but time, like regret, like love, can be paid for. The gelato makes up for it, it truly does. Of special note is the espresso at this location. Pitango still makes the best classically made italian espresso in the city, hands down. Once it was a ritual to stop by after work and drink a cup of espresso while admiring a pair of sapphire eyes. Once, the gelato and the espresso was not enough; time wears a soul down more sharply than the person around it, and now, it is not simply enough, it is sublime. i cannot recommend a finer establishment in the city to feed even the very white cuticles of the heart, the sparking flame that threatens always to burn out before the dark makes it redundant." -- Richard L. Baltimore

"There is a moment upon entering Pitango where a hush falls upon one's soul. It is like walking to a church, your feet firmly planted in the devil's anteroom where he can only pace and desperately desire and weep ruby tears of soft flame. Then you take one step forward and suddenly there is a calm peace around you that hums, and sings, and smells wonderfully of love. The thing about love is that it is so good at being hate, or worse, apathy. It is strong and immediate and blisteringly beautiful and then it fades and breaks so quickly, until all that remains is the snarling grey gargoyle of a memory. The price we pay for love is eternity - measured penny by penny along an uncertain but ever darkening road. The only question, then, is whether it is worth it. Pitango makes gelato. They also make love, pure love in the pulled and shaped forms of a cold treat. I stood in the sun and let my eyes adjust to the bright stinking emerald of our harbor and ate a cup of canteloupe sorbet. I sat on a bench where a small dog and I spoke softly on the mysteries of water and bones and the trees whose bent arms reach down to softly assure us as we walk underneath them, and I idly found a cup of straciatella disappearing into me(and the dog as well, don't tell his owner). There is love here in every flavor and in the process, and in the staff as well, that clearly love the store as much as the customers love the local and seasonal offerings. A long time ago I knew a girl that worked here as well as I have known my own pulse - I loved as a fool loves, a yellow flame burning impure. As a result it was two years since I last stepped foot into Pitango until quite recently. Two years seems long, but time, like regret, like love, can be paid for. The gelato makes up for it, it truly does. Of special note is the espresso at this location. Pitango still makes the best classically made italian espresso in the city, hands down. Once it was a ritual to stop by after work and drink a cup of espresso while admiring a pair of sapphire eyes. Once, the gelato and the espresso was not enough; time wears a soul down more sharply than the person around it, and now, it is not simply enough, it is sublime. i cannot recommend a finer establishment in the city to feed even the very white cuticles of the heart, the sparking flame that threatens always to burn out before the dark makes it redundant." -- Richard L. Baltimore (Jeffrey F. Bill, Baltimore Sun photo)

"There is a moment upon entering Pitango where a hush falls upon one's soul. It is like walking to a church, your feet firmly planted in the devil's anteroom where he can only pace and desperately desire and weep ruby tears of soft flame. Then you take one step forward and suddenly there is a calm peace around you that hums, and sings, and smells wonderfully of love. The thing about love is that it is so good at being hate, or worse, apathy. It is strong and immediate and blisteringly beautiful and then it fades and breaks so quickly, until all that remains is the snarling grey gargoyle of a memory. The price we pay for love is eternity - measured penny by penny along an uncertain but ever darkening road. The only question, then, is whether it is worth it. Pitango makes gelato. They also make love, pure love in the pulled and shaped forms of a cold treat. I stood in the sun and let my eyes adjust to the bright stinking emerald of our harbor and ate a cup of canteloupe sorbet. I sat on a bench where a small dog and I spoke softly on the mysteries of water and bones and the trees whose bent arms reach down to softly assure us as we walk underneath them, and I idly found a cup of straciatella disappearing into me(and the dog as well, don't tell his owner). There is love here in every flavor and in the process, and in the staff as well, that clearly love the store as much as the customers love the local and seasonal offerings. A long time ago I knew a girl that worked here as well as I have known my own pulse - I loved as a fool loves, a yellow flame burning impure. As a result it was two years since I last stepped foot into Pitango until quite recently. Two years seems long, but time, like regret, like love, can be paid for. The gelato makes up for it, it truly does. Of special note is the espresso at this location. Pitango still makes the best classically made italian espresso in the city, hands down. Once it was a ritual to stop by after work and drink a cup of espresso while admiring a pair of sapphire eyes. Once, the gelato and the espresso was not enough; time wears a soul down more sharply than the person around it, and now, it is not simply enough, it is sublime. i cannot recommend a finer establishment in the city to feed even the very white cuticles of the heart, the sparking flame that threatens always to burn out before the dark makes it redundant." -- Richard L. Baltimore